Touching a Ghost

“Is that a ghost?” a boy asked.

“Keep away from it!” warned his mother.

The ghostly form sat on a bench beside the public walkway. A white sheet completely shrouded head and body, concealing everything. The autumn morning was cold.

“Why is a ghost sitting there?” asked the child as they approached it.

“Maybe it’s tired. Take my hand.”

The form under the sheet didn’t move: an exhausted apparition. Sparrows flitted in dead leaves near the bench.

Hand in hand, the two walkers were nearly up to the ghost. The boy suddenly pulled toward it; his mother held him back. The boy reached out with his free hand.

The ghost’s head moved.

“Don’t touch it!” the boy’s anxious mother whispered, pulling him away from danger.

“I wanted to touch a ghost,” whined the boy.

“People shouldn’t touch ghosts.”